


Blurring the Lines

by Charity_Angel



Series: Destiel fixes [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, First Kiss, M/M, Meta, Post-Episode: s10e05 Fan Fiction, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-26 16:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2658662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charity_Angel/pseuds/Charity_Angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dean reconsiders things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blurring the Lines

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rayvynheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayvynheart/gifts).



> So, Rayvynheart and I were talking about the Destiel/Sastiel/Cas!Dean conversation from Fan Fiction, and that it looked like Dean was finally getting a clue...

That show had been a fucking disaster: Sam was still giggling like a freaking girl about Destiel, or CasDean, or whatever. The sick bastard had even started browsing for fan fiction, smirking as he read out the synopses or, even worse, the full texts of some of the shorter stories.

“Sam, shut the fuck up before I shoot you,” Dean snarled after an hour. “This is Cas you’re talking about. They’re talking about. It’s not right.”

“Why?” Sam asked, looking up with that earnest frown that Dean absolutely fucking hated. “Because he’s an angel?”

“Of course because he’s a freaking angel!”

Sam shrugged. “I dunno, man. It’s not like he’s a virgin any more.”

Dean froze, his mouth open and ready for the witty retort he had already forgotten. That was actually true: Cas had slept with that hot reaper. Yeah, so it hadn’t ended well, but it had still happened.

“He was human then,” Dean said as his brain caught up. “And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t anything like the kinky shit those teenage girls have been writing.”

Sam was smirking again. “‘Kinky shit’ like staring lovingly into your eyes?”

Because the stories seemed fixated with eye contact, for some reason. Dean and Cas could be doing all manner of depraved things to each other, but they always maintained that eye contact.

“Yes. No. I mean all that other crap.”

Sam’s eyes flickered back to the screen. “Okay, dude, whatever.”

That wasn’t Sam’s defeated voice, nor was it his defeated face. It was his ‘You’re a stubborn, pig-headed idiot and I can’t be bothered to argue with you right now’ expression. But Dean was too tired to try and weasel Sam’s point out of him. Because he was sure Sam _had_ a point to all of this lunacy: Sam usually did, even if Dean thought it was stupid.

Without saying another word, Dean shed his outer clothes and collapsed, face-first onto the crappy, unforgiving motel pillow, determined to sleep just so he didn’t have to deal with his brother right now.

After a few minutes, Sam sighed, picked up the car keys and headed out. Dean was pretty sure he was going to an all-night diner – they hadn’t eaten, but suddenly Dean wasn’t all that hungry, and he wasn’t going to sleep any time soon; not the way his mind was whirring. Those stories; those snippets of a sex life he would never have. Of a love life he could never have. And as Sam had read each and every one of the slow, tender scenes, Dean’s mind had imposed that fucking song that lesbian-girl-Cas had sung. The words; an embellishment on the actual true events, Dean knew (but how much of an embellishment?), were _haunting_ him. Did Cas really feel that way about him? Cause, yeah, men had hit on Dean before and he was always kind of flattered by it, but Cas? That was weird: they were friends, brothers even. Brothers didn’t feel like _that_ for each other.

But his treacherous mind kept reminding him of things: of how Cas always turned to him for advice, for help; how Cas had actually listened to him during that whole shit-storm when he opened Purgatory, and come begging for his help. Okay, it was far too late to be any use, but he still did it. How Castiel had given up absolutely freaking _everything_ for Dean, more than once; Heaven ,power, and most recently an entire angel army! How the other angels always said that shit about how he had corrupted Castiel (which, yeah, but not that much really, despite his best efforts). About how Cas sometimes got that tiny little smile in the quiet moments, when it was just the two of them and nothing was going to hell. And, fuck, even when Cas was angry and beating the ever-living shit out of him, well, you only got that mad for family – for love.

Fuck, Cas was completely in love with him, wasn’t he? How had it taken a bunch of oestrogen-fuelled fanfic to show him that? He was supposed to be fucking observant! John would be rolling in his grave (if he had one) right now, knowing just how blind his son had been to the blatantly obvious facts.

And then his mind chose to remind him about the moment Cas had stepped out of the bathroom on the day he returned from Purgatory. That completely fucking inappropriate and inexplicable boner. And about the soul-deep grief Dean had been feeling up until that very moment when he saw _his_ Castiel, wearing that suit and its ever-crooked tie, clean-shaven and smiling that little smile. And how he had been cut to the core that Cas had given himself so that Dean would have Sam back, or when Cas didn’t ask for his help against Raphael. Or when Cas had been missing for all that time after they ganked Zachariah. Even the few minutes he had known that Cas was dead, in Stull Cemetery, when he was watching two archangels wear his brothers and seconds from destroying half the world; that had stabbed right through to his heart.

Oh, _fuck_!

With a sigh, Dean sat up and scrubbed his face with his hand. Yeah, so they actually needed to talk about this. A dude could love another dude, need to engage in a chick flick moment to get them both on the same page, and still not have to hand his balls back, right?

Why would it change who he was? Dean loved a completely kick-ass being that happened to be wearing a man so he didn’t burn Dean’s retinas out. And Dean had loved him for years, slotting Cas into the ‘brother’ category so that he didn’t have to deal with the truth. Just because he knew it now didn’t mean he wasn’t going to hand the ass to the next vampire he met. Didn’t mean he was ‘gay’, right? No rainbows or glitter or shit like that. Didn’t even have to bend over and take it if he didn’t want to.

Not that he was thinking about that: it was those stupid stories Sam had been reading him, blurring the lines between fiction and reality in his mind.

He allowed himself one long, shuddering groan before he pulled his jeans back on, grabbed his cell phone and called Cas.

Cas sounded a little odd when he answered, but assured Dean he was okay and that he wasn’t all that far away: he had gotten wind of their location, been in the vague area anyway, and pointed the car.

Right, car. No popping in like he used to. Mojo but no wings. That’s what Dean got for living in the past, and looking at a seventeen-year-old girl wearing a reasonable facsimile of Cas’ old clothes and a pair of fluffy white fairy wings for two days.

“Wait, how did you know?”

“Claire,” Cas said simply. It took Dean a second to remember the name.

“Jimmy’s kid?”

“Yes. She shared the YouTube video of the performance with me. She had seen you in the background during one of the songs.”

Dean couldn’t even think: the damn thing was online? Already? How did he go about getting rid of it? Why was Charlie in Oz when he needed her? (Actually, she would probably be useful to hit up for info about hitting on someone your own gender, now he thought about it.)

“Dean, the GPS says I am half an hour away from the school. Perhaps you could give me the name of the motel you are staying at and I can alter my trajectory accordingly?”

Cas was using GPS? Go him, getting down with the human technology. If only Dean could tempt him into a better car. Still, he relayed the name and address of the motel, and Cas promptly told him that was only fifteen minutes.

“Great. See you then.”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

Wow, even a ‘goodbye’ before Cas hung up. Kid really was learning.

 

.oOo.

 

By the time Cas pulled in, Dean had taken the time to re-dress properly and brush his teeth. He wasn’t expecting anything, really, but it didn’t hurt to be extra minty fresh, just in case.

The angel had that smile, just for Dean, when he got out of the pimp-mobile and looked over to the open door.

“Dean.”

“Come on in, Cas.”

Cas frowned that tiny frown of his as he entered the room. “Are you okay, Dean? You seem… nervous.”

When the _hell_ did Cas start noticing shit like that? Really? Did he have to start now?

“I’m okay, Cas,” he said, sitting on the edge of his bed and patting it in invitation. “I just… I’ve been doing some thinking.”

Cas sat obediently, his hands in his lap and his eyes fixed firmly on Dean. “I also have been considering some things, in light of information I have acquired recently.”

“From that kid of yours?” Dean couldn’t help but ask, suspecting it was from the musical.

“Yes,” Cas said without hesitation, not even bothering to correct Dean’s terminology. “The link Claire provided was most educational. I was particularly struck by the song ‘A Single Man Tear’."

Dean let out a whimper. That song had been embarrassing, and a hell of a lot more accurate than he cared to admit.

“You do not express yourself easily, do you, Dean?”

“Like you do!” Dean was completely incredulous. “You know what song’s going through my head? ‘I’ll Just Wait Here Then’. That phone call was five years ago, man! You haven’t said anything in all that time!”

Cas cocked his head. “I informed you on multiple occasions that I fell for you.”

Dean buried his head in his hands and groaned loudly. “I’m such an _idiot_!” Because Cas _had_ said it. Cas _had_ told him.

“You heard what you wished to hear,” Cas said gently. “I am content with the relationship we have.”

Dean peeked up over his fingers, into Cas’ bright blue eyes. “I don’t think I am,” he admitted. “Would you…” He straightened up and pulled Cas’ hands apart, taking one in each hand.

“Would you still be ‘content’ if we had a deeper relationship?”

Cas’ eyes lit up, that tiny smile making a reappearance. It was the only warning Dean got before Cas leaned forward and brushed their lips together.

There was a little whimper of relief that Dean would swear until his last dying day did not come from him, and Dean surged forwards, almost landing in Castiel’s lap as his hands came up, holding the angel’s head in place, fingers tangling in the dark hair.

It wasn’t a perfect kiss by any means: Cas was inexperienced and enthusiastic, and Dean couldn’t care less. His heart soared as their teeth clashed, and he lost himself in the sensation of just being with Castiel.

He barely even heard the click of the door as Sam returned; only a surprised gasp, followed by “Thank _fuck_!”

He wrenched himself away from Cas, panting, and turned to see the door closing.

“Yes,” Cas said blithely. “I believe I would still be content.”

Dean chuckled and drew Cas in for another kiss.


End file.
